


goodnight.

by ursl



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:33:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursl/pseuds/ursl
Summary: "Goodnight, (Y/N)," he said, silently begging for her to say it back."Night."--A development of feelings through trial and error.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	goodnight.

(Y/N) and Geralt met a long time ago. A time when things were different. Before the Law of Surprise, even before he met Jaskier, she was there before it all.

(Y/N) loved working with her father in his smith’s shop, in those trying times the demand for swords and knives was high, and rightfully so, for beasts and monsters of all kinds were roaming the Continent. It was also very uncommon for a girl to be working in a smith’s shop, so her father, in hopes of keeping his reputation, let her work in secret; either early in the morning or long into the night.

During the day she would help her mother with the pigs and sheep, sometime in the afternoon she would bring food to her father to his shop, if only to set her eyes on his newest sword. She would skim her fingers along the blade before her father swatted her hand away, murmuring to himself about nosy kids and ushering her out of the door with a smug smile.

Times were different, she was young and happy.

But times change.

A group of bandits from the south had made their way to their little village in the mountains. They’d arrived early in the afternoon, quickly pillaging and killing innocent people. People she knew.

Her father burst through the door of their house, dragged her through the back of it, to his horse.

“(Y/N),” he said, hurriedly, “you have to leave, take this bag, take some food, take these swords and go!”

Speechless, she looked at her father, her eyes feeling dry yet wet at the same time. She took a breath, her father shaking in front of her, his eyes betraying the brave front he’d put up for his only child.

"Father,” she choked out, feeling short of breath, “I don’t want to leave, please!”

He shook his head and quickly pulled her in for a hug, then gave her a firm push toward the horse.

“You must, now quickly, befo-” his head snapped to their house, their home, as the bandits had broken through. Their eyes met again, he took one last look at his daughter and gave her a weak smile. “I love you,” he seemed to say, then he struck the horse and it ran.

Her hair was in her face, her wet cheeks making it stick, so she couldn’t see where they were going but her eyes, filled with sorrow, did their best to take in her home for the last time. The horse ran fo a long time, enough time that her cheeks dried, her tears stopped and her trembles died down.

It was in the middle of the woods that she stopped the horse. “Stay off the maid roads,” she said to herself, climbing off the horse. It was time to open the bag her father gave and look at what she had left. Some bread, a flask, a few of his shirts and trousers, half a dozen throwing knives, and two daggers. Her eyes widened as she took one in her hands, studying it closely, she is instantly noticed the mark on the blade, the mark on all of the weapons she had. Her father’s mark, fresh tears stinging her eyes, she fell to her knees, gasping for breath as she held the dagger close to her heart. She wailed, the cries echoing in the forest, in between her sniffles, she heard a twig snap. Her head shot up.

A massive figure stepped from behind the trees, white haired, yellow eyed, the man stood, unmoving, watching the girl struggle to catch her breath.

“Who - who are you?” She asked in a timid voice, her face red and wet from tears and snot. No response, for some time they just looked at each other, both unmoving.

“I’m Geralt,” the man finally answered, taking a cautious step forward. She stumbled upright and held the dagger in front of her.

“Don’t come any closer!” her voice boomed, making Geralt instantly come to a halt, raising his hands. “Are you one of those bastards who killed my family?” her eyes never leaving the man in front of her, “Killed the whole village, now come for me as well,” her hands shook, gripping the dagger tightly.

“I am not,” he replied, “I am a Witcher and I am not here to hurt you.”

She held her breath, thinking that staring at him for long enough would make him break his ruse. It didn’t. Slowly lowering her hands, she let out a shaky sigh, tears once again beginning to fall, since the adrenalin faded.

“I’m (Y/N),” she said, not meeting the man’s eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, slowly making his way to her as she didn’t seem to be as afraid of him anymore. She shut her eyes, dropping the dagger and flung her arms around him. She sobbed into his shirt.

Geralt was stunned, standing as still as a tree, slowly lifting his hand and gently patting the girl on the head, doing his best to comfort her. They stayed like that for some time, she told him about her village being pillaged and about her father and how she ended up in the middle of the woods at night.

“Do you,” her head snapped up to meet his eyes, “ahem, do you want to come with me to camp, it’s dangerous in the woods at night.” She nodded brushing her eyes with her sleeve. She picked up the dagger and the bag then unlaced the reins from the tree and followed the man deeper into the woods.

She spent the next few years at Geralt’s side, fighting, training, travelling. Her father’s horse still with her, she decided to name him Beetle, to complement Roach’s name, she found it hilarious, Geralt didn’t.

She was slowly nearing her twenties when they entered a tavern in the mountains. Both sitting down in the far-off corner of the tavern hoping to not be noticed.

They spent the next few minutes brooding in silence, she hates to admit, but she was becoming more and more like Geralt as the years passed, she didn’t care for the birds singing any more than she did for the ground she walked on. They enjoyed the silence, but it was soon broken by a playful voice.

“I like how you just sit in the corner and brood,” they both turned their heads to the man, noting him holding a drink in his hands.

She spoke up, “We’re here to drink alone.”

“Good, yeah, good,” the bard dismissed, “no one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except,” he paused, making his way around the table, “for you two.”

The girls eyes left the bard and met Geralt’s, both of them understanding the other’s annoyance. But their silence was once again broken.

“Come on,” the bard said in a cheerful yet nervous voice, “you don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting.” That almost brought a small smile to her lips. Almost. “You must have some review for me, three words or less,” the man begged, sitting down, Geralt’s eyes fixated on the man, while (Y/N) studied the people in the tavern.

“They don’t exist,” she heard Geralt say and she puffed air through her nose in a small laugh, something rare these days.

The bard grew more persistent and eventually figured out who Geralt and was and identified (Y/N) as his trusty companion, to which they both sighed, annoyed. He also decided to announce this information to the whole tavern. The duo made their way outside, readying their horses, when a different man called out for them and said something about a devil stealing crops.

“Hmm,” they both said simultaneously and the bard squeaked out a laugh behind them.

“You two are very much alike,” he said, walking behind them to investigate the so-called devil.

They were making their way to the valley, with the bard, who introduced himself as Jaskier with a wink to the girl, to which she rolled her eyes. Jaskier couldn’t seem to shut up for even one second and it put quite a damper on their usual silent walking.

“(Y/N),” Geralt said, “when we get there, I want you to keep watch and wait outside.” She groaned in response, rolling her eyes. Even with the years spent training with him, she still couldn’t seem to be let in on the action.

Jaskier then turned to Geralt, “I suppose I’ll also be staying out here with (Y/N),” his head turned to the girl with a small smile.

“No, you’ll go with Geralt, wouldn’t want to miss out on any of the action,” the girl responded before Geralt, sending a smug look to the Witcher. If she was going to be stuck out there she didn’t want the bard talking her ear off.

Not long after they arrived and tied up their horses, Geralt and Jaskier made their way to the field, while she stood by the horses, kicking at pebbles, it wasn’t long before she heard some commotion, so she sneakily made her way through the tall grass, careful not to make a sound, only to see Geralt and Jaskier being carried away by some elves.

“Fuck,” she whispered and ran behind them, finally stopping at a series of tunnels, which were barely guarded so she made her way in easily. She stopped outside of an opening, when she heard Geralt’s raspy voice, though she couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying. She peeked around the corner and saw three people in the room, with her companions tied up in the middle of the room.

She saw an opportunity, when all three of them had their backs turned to her, she snuck behind one of them and tackled her to the ground, already brandishing her dagger, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“(Y/N)!” She looked up startled, the elf breathing heavily under her. “They’re letting us go,” Geralt sighed, somehow sounding more annoyed than he does usually.

“Oh,” she said, sheepishly, getting up from the elf and helping her stand back up, she extended her hand for her to shake, “Sorry, I wasn’t really listening to the conversation.” The elf gave her a glare but didn’t say anything.

They easily made their way out of the tunnel, (Y/N) turning around to apologise once more.

“I told you to wait outside,” the Witcher grumbled, untying Roach from a nearby tree.

“If I waited any longer you could have been dead,” she untied her horse and gave Geralt a look that said, ‘Don’t test me, I saved your ass’. Geralt only huffed and started walking away.

The bard, who was more enthusiastic, danced around Geralt and stood next to (Y/N) while she mounted her horse. “Well, I think you were brilliant, Lady (Y/N), I thought we were in a bit of a bind but then you came -” he was cut off rather quickly by her words.

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

He smiled, liking the way his name rolled off her tongue, even if it was a scold.

The bard seemed to become a constant new member of their little group, and despite constant scolding from the two, he never did shut up.

The next tavern they entered Jaskier sang his new song about Geralt. After he was done with singing he made his way to their table, still high on adrenaline, and plopped on a chair next to the girl, bumping her shoulder in the process, she let out a grunt.

“So, what did you think about my song?” he asked her specifically, “Did you like the melody? The words? My lute?” The questions never seemed to stop.

“It was fine,” she answered simply, not taking her eyes off the ale.

“Just fine?” he gasped, “You weren’t mesmerised?” He joked, but she could tell he was serious.

“If I say it was the best song I’ve ever heard, will you leave me alone?” She asked, her eyes meeting his and his smile growing larger by the second.

“Yes, absolutely,” he nodded, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

She let out a sigh, “Jaskier,” her eyes still looking at his and her hand touching his, making him sharply breathe in, “That was the best song I’ve ever heard.”

He felt faint, feeling his cheeks reddening, he smiled, gripping her hand tightly, “Oh, thank you, my dear, I knew you’d like it, because of the -” he was cut off.

“You said you’d leave me alone,” she reminded him and he gave her a long sigh but nodded nonetheless, and left to go chat up some ladies at a nearby table.

(Y/N) was on her second pint of ale, when Geralt was approached by a man asking for help. The Witcher stood up and gave her a look.

“You can’t seriously be asking me to stay here, while you go fight monsters,” she whined, her eyes slightly glazed by the alcohol.

“I am asking you that and you will do as I say,” Geralt said with finality. “Make sure Jaskier doesn’t get killed,” he put his hand on her shoulder, then followed the man out the door.

She scanned the room, looking for the bard and found him surrounded by three women in fancy dresses in a corner. She walked up to them, determined to resolve this mess before it even began.

“Are any of you married or soon-to-be married?” All of the women sheepishly looked away from her as she pulled the bard up by the collar of his shirt. “That’s all the answer I need. Goodnight, ladies,” she said as she dragged the bard up the stairs to their shared room.

“You know,” he snickered “if you wanted me all to yourself you could have just said so,” he winked and started unbuttoning his shirt leaving only his undershirt on.

“I don’t want you all to myself,” she answered, staring at the bard as he unlaced his shoes, “I only did that because Geralt told me to prevent you from getting killed.” He sighed, accepting her answer and laid down on his bed, his eyes trained on her sitting on her bed unlacing her shoes.

“You know staring will get you punched, right?” She said kicking the shoes off, before unlacing her trousers, she lifted her eyes to see him still staring. “A little privacy, please.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he answered, turning in his bed, feeling flushed. He heard her crawl into bed and blow out the candles.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he said, silently begging for her to say it back.

“Night.”

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

As they travelled, (Y/N) sometimes reluctantly let Jaskier ride on her horse with her, when he was getting too whiny and promised to shut up if she let his rest his feet. “Can I sing?” He would whisper in her ear and she sighed, rolling her eyes, knowing it was useless to even argue with him, so she nodded.

“Do what you must,” she said, keeping up the pace with Geralt and Roach.

She rather enjoyed his slower songs, they felt more personal and they sometimes brought a small smile to her face and if Jaskier ever caught glimpse of her reactions he would hop off the horse and send a wink her way before continuing to sing louder, much to her and Geralt’s dismay.

When they made camp in the woods, Jaskier would make sure he would be sleeping near (Y/N), her close proximity seeming to be able to lull him to a peaceful sleep. She never complained, best not to argue with the bard unless you wanted your ears talked off. It was the same when they were staying in an inn, he would insist on sharing a room, knowing Geralt would most likely want his own room or not need it if he was hunting monsters.

So when they stopped in front of an inn his face lit up, knowing Geralt was going to be busy with a beast at night. He turned to her, seeing she just finished tying her horse to the stables, he grabbed her hand and dragged he to the inn, shouting a quick ‘Goodbye, Geralt!’ to the Witcher still stood outside.

It was nearing the evening and (Y/N) had enough of Jaskier’s constant talking. He never seemed to run out of things to say.

“I’m going to get some ale,” she announced, standing from the table, when Jaskier pushed her back down.

“Nonsense, I will get the ale for us, my lady,” he demanded with a wink and swiftly made his way to the barkeep. Not a moment later he returned with two pints of ale, At least this way she’d be too drunk to care how much talking he was going to do.

“Cheers,” he lifted his pint and bumped it against her own, “to more adventures with you!”

She gulped down half her drink, “Yeah, cheers,” she said, forcing a smile, she quickly poured the rest down her throat and ordered two more.

“Oh, I won’t be drinking that much tonight,” the bard said shyly, with a laugh escaping his lips. She looked in his eyes.

“I ordered them for me,” said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, he smiled at her nonetheless.

“You know, I don’t understand,” she slurred, nursing her fifth pint of the night, “how do you even go about writing a song?” Taking hold of his hand to get him to open his eyes and look back at her, expecting him to answer. Jaskier was on his third pint and it was having quite an effect on him, he smiled at her.

“Well, you need to be inspired,” he gripped her hand, “you write with your heart and your soul,” he exclaimed, she smiled softly to his enthusiasm. “Five drinks in and you’re acting like a normal human being,” he joked, “never thought I’d see it,” she laughed at that, he was funny when she was drunk. “Oh, that laugh,” he gripped his chest, “I’ve never heard anything more beautiful.”

She blushed and shoved him lightly, still beaming. “Shut up, bard,” she let out a yawn. “Have we got the key to our room?” she asked sleepily, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he stumbled over his words, “I got the key here. Do you want to go to the room?”

Before she could respond he was hoisted from his chair by a group of women pleading for him to sing them a song, but before he could grab his lute (Y/N) stood up, wobbling a bit on her legs. “Oi,” she said, stumbling around the table and reaching for his hand, which he extended without noticing, “he can’t sing for you tonight, because we,” she emphasised, “are going to bed.”

The group couldn't even protest as she and Jaskier slowly made their way up the stairs, his hand still gripped tightly in her own.

“I think someone is jealous,” the bard sang as he stood behind her, watching her unlock the door to their room.

“I am not jealous, just sleepy,” she corrected, finally opening the door and plopped on the bed, too drunk to notice there was only one bed, not two like usually, but he didn’t notice either.

“Let me take off your shoes,” he cooed, smiling when she let out a huff, but still lifted her leg. He slowly unlaced the boot and pulled it off and gently placed her leg back down then did the same with the other.

She turned on the bed, watching him unlacing his own boots, “I’m drunk,” she whispered like it was a secret.

“Oh, I’ve noticed, my dear,” he laughed quietly, “You’ve had five pints, I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” this made her laugh.

She stood up, still smiling, and untied her trousers before sliding them off her legs. Jaskier did the same. She then attempted to take off the shirt, only to stumble back on the bed in a fit of giggles. “Jaskier,” she slurred, “can you help me take off my shirt?” she looked at him, a teasing smile still present on her lips. He turned to look and his face mirrored her expression.

“Of course,” he said, taking her hands in his and helping her stand. His hands gently gripped the end of her shirt and slowly lifting it. When it was finally off and on the floor, he could do nothing but stare at her.

“You’ve got that stupid smile on your face, bard,” she noticed and took a step closer to him, her drunken smile never faltering. “Do you need help with your shirt, too?” her hands already on the soft fabric of his shirt. He only nodded, looking down at her with hooded eyes and a smile. She slowly pulled the shirt over his head and threw it on the floor next to her own. She then turned and crawled back into bed. After blowing out the candles, he joined her.

“Are you sleepy?” she asked, her back turned to him. He lifted his hand, unthinking, and softly played with her hair, which was sprawled on the pillow under her head.

“A little,” he whispered, still softly tugging on the strand, “are you sleepy?”

“A little,” she let out a giggle, then turned to face him, “but I think I’ll fall asleep quick,” she confessed, it bringing a smile to his face. She crossed the space between them and let out a sigh and laid her head on his chest, he could only hope she was too far gone to notice how quickly his heart was beating. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer to him. He tilted his head down, the moonlight seeping through the windows allowing him to see her, she looked up at him, a soft smile still on her lips.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he whispered, looking into her eyes.

“Goodnight,” she replied, laying her head back on his chest. She quickly fell asleep to him playing with her hair.

The next morning Jaskier awoke to an empty bed, with a throbbing head and a lazy smile. He sat up and quickly took in the room, her clothes nowhere to be seen, while his laid neatly folded at the edge of the bed. “Bollocks,” he grumbled and climbed out of bed, rushing to get dressed and meet (Y/N) for breakfast. Shoving his head through the shirt and flinging himself down the stairs, he quickly found her and Geralt enjoying breakfast in silence. He smiled.

“Good morning, my travelling companions,” he sat and leaned back on his chair, stealing a piece of bread from Geralt’s hand and taking a bite out of it.

“Hm,” was all he heard from the Witcher, then he turned his eyes to the girl, with a smile on his lips. Her eyes lifted from her plate and met his.

“Morning, bard,” she murmured and then went back to eating.

After months of travelling, Jaskier decided to leave, giving (Y/N) a soft kiss on her hand, she huffed.

“Goodbye,” she said, mounting her horse without a glance his way and then it was just the two of them, like before. She noted the silence wasn’t as pleasant as it used to be.

Years later, she and Geralt stopped at a pond in search of a djinn. Geralt was a pain in the ass, because he couldn’t sleep.

“I’m going to look around and see if there is a village nearby,” she said, grumpily getting on her horse and riding into the woods, soon stumbling upon an elf and offered him some coin in exchange for tea.

“It’s been too long since, I’ve had tea,” she told him while taking a slow sip from the cup. They chatted for a while and then the door burst open.

“We need help,” Geralt said, holding a choking Jaskier in his arms.

“(Y/N)!” Jaskier wheezed, his arm extending towards her, she quickly grabbed it.

“What happened?” She asked, while looking at his throat.

“A djinn,” the Witcher grumbled, she let out a huff and let go of Jaskier’s hand, much to his dismay.

“Is there a mage here?” she asked, the elf sighed.

They were riding horseback to the mayor’s house. Jaskier for once riding with Great, his laboured breathing making it hard to concentrate.

“Money opens all doors,” the man said smugly, “or we can discuss a different kind of payment,” gripping (Y/N)’s thigh, the guard gave her a crude wink. She quickly grabbed her pouch of coin and bashed him across the face with it.

“Money does open all doors.”

Seeing the mayor naked couldn’t have prepared her for the sight she’d see in the next room. Bodies, gleaming with sweat, grinding on one another, moans filling the room. She scrunched her nose in disgust. Geralt pushed the bard to sit while he went and talked to the mage. (Y/N) quickly crouched in front of Jaskier, and held his head upright so he wouldn’t be leaning on anyone. He met her eyes, she gave him pitiful smile and brushed some hair from his face.

The mage put Jaskier in a healing sleep and (Y/N) excused herself, not wanting to stay in the same room with Geralt and a horny mage, they were probably already fucking by now. So she stood outside petting her horse, when the guard on the ground begun to stir, she quickly hid in the tall grass beside the house and observed what was happening.

She followed him into the house to the dungeons, hearing him taunting and beating Geralt, so she snuck behind him and jammed her dagger through his neck, quickly freeing Geralt and the elf.

“Where’s Jaskier?” She asked, panic evident in her voice, hoping he wasn’t still with the mage. The three of them made their way out of the house and right after them came Jaskier, throwing his arms around (Y/N)’s body and holding her close, she didn’t respond.

“We have to leave, now,” he said, releasing her from the hug, but his hands still on her waist, she tilted her head in question so he explained. Geralt soon marched in. (Y/N) eyed the building and took a tentative step closer, but Jaskier pulled her back into him. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, so she stayed, noting how this time his arms didn’t untangle from her, just held her close, she didn’t mind.

Jaskier joined them again on their travels, occasionally riding (Y/N)’s horse with her, but mostly still talking.

One night they were ambushed by some bandits, Jaskier wasn’t much help, just screaming and shouting, but (Y/N) and Geralt seemed to have the situation under control. The bandits were rapidly falling, the two fighting in perfect sync, but (Y/N) didn’t see one of the bandits creeping out of the shadows.

Pain, everywhere, she screamed and threw her dagger at the bastard’s face, hitting him right in the eye. She collapsed on her knees, gripping her abdomen, putting pressure on the wound.

Geralt ran over, followed closely by Jaskier. Geralt picked her up and gently put her on his horse, hurrying to the nearest village in search of a healer.

“Oh, Gods, Geralt,” she groaned, “It fucking hurts!” Once they got there and Geralt took her off the horse she whimpered again, Jaskier grabbed her hand, meeting her eyes, then he said something she couldn’t hear as her vision faded.

She awoke a few hours later, laying in bed with bandages wrapped around her waist. She groaned trying to sit up, but hissed from the pain. Jaskier burst through the door.

“Oh, thank the Gods, you’re alright,” he pulled her into a tight hug and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “I was worried sick,” she giggled lowly, while the bard panicked, “I thought you’d died!”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” she said, groggily, gently holding his hand. He nodded and sat on the side of the bed, leaning over and pressing another kiss on her forehead. “Where’s Geralt?”

The bard’s eyes flickered to the window, “He’s out hunting, should be back in a few days,” he smiled at her, brushing hair out of her face as they looked in each other’s eyes. He was glad she was safe and she was glad he was there.

She soon fell back asleep and awoke in less pain than before, but it still hurt. She cast her eyes on the bard sleeping on a chair beside the bed, she puffed out a laugh. Running her fingers through his hair, she whispered his name, “Jaskier,” his head slowly lifting, trying to blink her into clarity.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes,

“You can sleep in the bed with me if you’re insistent in staying here,” she smiled at him, he sleepily crawled in beside her, immediately wrapping his arms gently around her and bringing her close. She smiled and hoped he couldn’t notice her rapid heartbeat. They fell asleep.

They awoke in the afternoon, Jaskier was the first to sit up, his hair a complete mess, which elicited a soft snicker from (Y/N). He quickly turned his head, a smile already gracing his lips.

“Your,” she took a breath, “your hair is a mess!” she giggled, the healing potions apparently affecting her greatly. She reached out her hand and attempted to pat his hair down.

“Ha, ha, like yours in any better,” he smiled, twirling some of her hair in his fingers. They watched each other for some time, but then she slowly rose from the bed, her breathing laboured.

“Let me help you,” he gently insisted, but she waved her hand in dismissal.

“I’m just going to take a bath and I think my bandages need changing,” she slowly walked to the bath chamber, with Jaskier trailing behind her in case she needed help. She stumbled on an uneven tile but before she could even try and regain her footing, Jaskier’s hands caught her shoulders and pulled her back. She turned to face him. “Thank you, Jaskier,” soft smile on her lips, she placed a hand on his cheek, then sat on the edge of the bath, unlacing her trousers. Jaskier stood at the door and waited for her to ask for help. Her eyes sheepishly met his own. “Can you - ahem,” she stuttered, “can you help me undress and take my bandages off?” still sitting on the edge, she waited for his response, which came as a smile and a nod.

He slowly made his way to her and helped her stand, he gently grasped the top of her trousers and slowly pulled them down her legs until they pooled at her feet. His fingers softly brushing her thighs and exposed hips as they made their way up to lift her shirt, she let out a shudder, avoiding his eyes, feeling weak and useless. Her shirt was difficult to come off, but they managed, a soft hiss left her lips as she raised her arms to get the shirt over her head. It was time to see the damage the bandits did.

She held her breath as Jaskier gently unwrapped the cloth from around her body. A gasp left her lips as a long gash was present on her stomach. It was scabbed up and sown, but it was still oozing goo and hurt like a bitch.

“I’m sorry,” she pulled her eyes from the deep gash to meet Jaskier’s own eyes, “I should’ve seen him coming fo you,” his eyes filled with regret.

She stepped closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder and let out a long sigh, her arms wrapped around his waist, his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“It’s alright, Jaskier,” she murmured, feeling him press a kiss to the top of her head. They stood, embracing for a while, just listening to their breathing. Then she turned and slowly lowered herself into the water, a breath leaving her lips and her eyes closing, enjoying the warmth. She opened one eye as she heard Jaskier shuffle closer.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked timidly, she nodded with a smile. He smiled back and managed the soap into her scalp, listening to her soft moans and breaths. It was doing something to him, taking care of her, the sounds she was making, her body, oh, Gods, her body, which he’d just seen very naked. But he pushed all those thoughts aside and rinsed the soap out of her hair.

Helping her out of the tub was simple, changing her bandages too, he insisted she wear his trousers as they were cleaner, he tried helping her put the shirt back on but the hiss she let out trying to lift her arms was too much, he tossed the shirt on the floor and grabbed one of his.

“Honestly, woman, how can you have a shirt with no buttons?” He grumbled, guiding her arms through the sleeves and buttoning up the shirt, desperately trying not to think about her breasts, which were right in his face looking perky and delicious —

“Thank you,” he heard and lifted his eyes from her ~~breasts~~ buttons to her eyes. She was looking down with a smile.“You’re welcome, my dear,” he buttoned the last button and pulled her into a hug, pressing his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of lavender. Prefect for her, he thought.

“Will you be playing tonight?” She asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“No,” he said, “I’m staying here with you,” he let out a sigh, while she could only hope he couldn’t feel the heat of her cheeks through his shirt. “I’ll even get us a bottle of wine so we can celebrate your recovery.”

“Oh,” she let out a moan, “I’ve missed alcohol,” she burrowed her head in his neck. Her breath ghosting down his neck and chest, sending a shiver down his spine. He pulled away and gave her a tight lipped smile and made his way to the door. “Actually, bring more than one bottle,” he heard her say.

Three bottles. He brought three bottles, and they’ve already poured two down their throats. They were laughing at something he said, neither of them remembering what it was.

“We should,” she said with closed eyes, “go on the balcony!” a hushed whisper was all that was heard from him.

“That’s a great idea!”

They laid on the floor of the balcony, both looking up at the night sky.

“I miss the stars,” he heard her say, “nothing but fog these days.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, she repeats. She turns her hip, squinting to better see the bard beside her, hearing a soft giggle. Her hand brushing against his throat, feeling for a scar. “I can't even tell you were attacked by a djinn, there’s no scar,” she whispered in awe. He could feel her breath on his neck, his chest, it (and the wine) made him woozy.

In a moment of bravery she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his neck, his breath hitched and it brought a smile to her lips as she leaned back. His head turned to her, his eyes wide, she only grinned at him. “It was for good luck,” she assured, “so it won’t happen again.”

His hands gently brushed the hair from her face, he smiled at her answer. They looked at each other in the faint light the moon provided. He then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then pulled away ever so slightly.

“Bollocks to this,” she cussed, swiftly pulling him down by his collar and pressed her lips to his, then gently brushed his cheek with her hand. His arms wrapped around her waist as they deepened the kiss, their tongues exploring each other’s mouth, when a gust of wind chilled them to pull away, out of breath.

“We should go inside,” she said, pulling him back in for a kiss, he laughed and helped her stand up, leading both of them to the bed.

He sat down assuming she would do the same, but she straddled him instead, rather clumsily given her drunken state, but he didn’t mind, his hands coming down to rest on her hips as she captured his mouth with her own once again.

Her hands wandered to his shirt and started undoing the buttons, her lips still pressed against his, she let out a soft sigh. With the buttons finally undone, she pushed the shirt down his shoulders and started undoing her own buttons.

“Jaskier,” she breathed, moving her mouth from his to his jaw, “unbutton my shirt, I did yours,” pressing kiss after kiss to his jaw, she listened to the deep breaths that kept escaping his lips.

He quickly did as he was told, her shirt landing on the floor, then he kissed her again and pushed her to stand and slowly pulled down her trousers, then his own, she climbed on his lap once again, now fully naked, the bandages still wrapped tightly around her waist. Their lips met again, his arm wrapping around her waist, her hands on both his cheeks, she felt her arousal stirring in her stomach, her breathing heavier by the second. She pulled away and stole a glance at his cock, standing proudly on his stomach.

He watched with hooded eyes as she rose to her knees and slowly sank down his member, both their breaths catching in their throat. Her eyes never left his, but when she sat completely, she closed her eyes and threw her head back as she softly grinded back and forth.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, his hands slowly guiding her hips, his head leaned back, listening to her breathing. Her head rested on his shoulder, her breath on his chest, giving him goosebumps as she rocked on his cock, relishing in the sounds he made.

“Oh, Gods,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulder as she threw her head back, his lips quickly captured her neck and peppered kisses and bites in time with her breathing. “Jaskier, Gods,” his name tumbled from her lips sounding filthy and possessive but also loving and caring.

His hands rocked her harder, his hips thrusting up to meet hers, their lips met and one of his hands travelled from her hips to take a hold of her breast and gently knead it. She moaned in his mouth then lolled her head back, her breathing growing heavier with every thrust of his hips.

“Jaskier, Jaskier, ah,” a mantra from her lips threatened to push him over the edge, he knew she was close as well.

“Come on — fuck,” he cursed as she shifted on his lap, getting a deeper angle, “(Y/N), come for me, right on my cock, love,” his filthy words seemingly enough, because after a few particularly hard thrust, she does, her toes curling, nails digging into his shoulders, her head thrown back, rushing forward at the last second to press her lips against his. She squeezed him inside her and he toppled over the edge right after her.

He fell back on the bed, bringing her down on top of him, his arms wrapping around her waist and she slowly rolled herself off of him. She kissed him before laying her head on his chest, his hands in her hair keeping her there for more than just a chaste kiss. They parted and he hugged her close. He let out a sigh.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

She hummed, “Goodnight, Jaskier.”

He smiled, but his smile faltered when he hears her next words.

“I love you.”

His head snapped down to look at her, when she looked up he kissed her deeply, a smile greater than ever broke out on his face.

“Say it again,” he said, smiling.

“I love you,” she repeated, still beaming.

He caressed her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips, both of them smiling through the kiss.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
